


what's a human being gotta be like?

by bluesargayent



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't Have to Know Death Note, Gen, Light Angst, Shinigami Eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesargayent/pseuds/bluesargayent
Summary: This is about Juliet, days before the events of the Eternity Code, in a world where the Butler family can see the lifespan of any human.
Relationships: Domovoi Butler & Juliet Butler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	what's a human being gotta be like?

**Shinigami Eyes** (死神の目, shinigami no me), are eyes which allow their owner to see both the name and lifespan of humans floating above their heads.

Juliet waited impatiently on her hotel bed for her brother to pick up his end of the Skype call. She sat in an awkward diagonal to allow the laptop to both balance on her lap while still remaining in range of the ethernet outlet. She’d have to rearrange the room a bit if she was still in Mexico City for their next call. 

Skype may have just barely been introduced (well, to the public—Artemis had somehow downloaded the program onto her computer ages ago and Juliet purposefully never asked about it) but Juliet was forever grateful for the video conferencing app. There was something about being able to physically see her brother’s face that made it impossible to go back to their weekly phone calls, even if her elderly brother often struggled to set up his side of the connection. 

Finally, Butler appeared on her computer screen.

Her eyes glazed over the jagged red _DOMOVOI BUTLER_ floating above his face, instead focusing on the scarlet set of numbers underneath them.

The number was a lot smaller than the last time they talked.

Juliet ignored his greeting and instead did some quick mental math. “So, Dom, do you have any special plans for—three days, five hours, and—uh—”

Butler frowned. “Juliet,” he warned.

“You have a right to know!” She protested. “And I didn’t even say anything about the countdown.”

The countdown to his death.

You see, Juliet was born a Butler. And, like all Butlers, Juliet was born to be a bodyguard.

For centuries, the Fowls marked their place among the Irish elites. Along the way, they inevitably garnered many enemies and found themselves a coin’s width from death more than any sane individual would be comfortable with. 

Still, the cold embrace of Europe’s finest coffins never met a single Fowl until they reached a suitably old age. 

There was one reason for the Fowls’ longevity, and it certainly wasn’t the charm or supposed intelligence of the single-family monopoly of crime. No, the Fowls owe their entire lineage to the dedication and skill of the Butlers, who lived by their side for years. 

The Butlers traveled the world, collecting the strengths of every technique in the book and molding them into their ever-evolving code of conduct. They took their job seriously and were undeniably irreplaceable.

Even with all their discipline, the Butlers constantly defied expectations, leading their charges out of danger before danger had a chance to present itself.

Almost as though the Butlers had a sixth sense. 

A dash of precognition, alerting them to potential threats in the area.

The reason for this was, of course, that they did indeed possess a sixth sense: an ability that, to their knowledge, was shared exclusively amongst their descendents. How it came to be is a matter lost to the centuries, with each generation offering up their own tall tales of genetic mutations or gods of death.

Above each person’s face floated their name, carved into the air in pointed red print, and a number, visible only to the Butlers.

The name’s meaning was obvious enough. Although it did not always correspond to the owner’s legal name, it was the name they most associated themselves with. It provided a Disney fastpass to the bodyguards, if the roller coasters in this scenario were successfully tracking down wannabe assassins.

The numbers took the Butlers several generations to fully understand their magnitude. They were strung underneath each name, only their own lifespan remaining hidden. After much experimentation (and several significant contributions to the mathematical community), Grendel Butler finally discovered the formula for converting the seemingly random string of integers into a single number that would eventually be recognized as the time between one’s birth and their death. The number changed as threats came and went, and the Butlers would forever be privy to this knowledge.

Which brings us back to Juliet and her older brother—one of whom sporting a much lower number than expected.

“It isn’t healthy to obsess over these things.” Butler told her, as he rubbed his brow. “You know how easily they become self-fulfilling prophecies.”

Juliet knew very well. The two of them grew up with stories about their great-great-grandfather, who convinced his sister to constantly update him on any changes in his lifespan. Unfortunately, in an effort to stretch his time left on this Earth as long as possible, it had snapped back as though it was a rubber band at its limit and he passed at a tragically young age.

“Okay,” She countered, falling back into the same dance they performed every time they repeated this argument. “So when you see Artemis’s countdown, you just ignore it, right?”

“Of course not,” Butler volleyed, leading her into the next part of their routine. “I examine the environment for any reasons the change may have occurred. I respond appropriately. And, most importantly—”

“You say nothing to Artemis.”

This part was essential. The Fowls may experience an unnatural connection to the supernatural, but they were never told the extent that the unexplainable permeated their lives. Instead, they unquestioningly trusted the Butlers with their lives and the Butlers never let them down.

“Exactly,” Butler replied. He paused before breaking their script and cutting their exchange short. “I’m not asking you to understand my wishes, Juliet, but I’m asking you to respect them.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. The conversation just veered into something far too sappy for her comfort. 

“Thank you.” 

It took a moment, but they soon were able to continue catching up as normal, relating their Artemis and wrestling updates, Domovoi’s latest read, Juliet’s maybe-girlfriend. Still, Juliet felt they left their initial conversation too soon, despite a familiar loss as to how to put her conflicting feelings into words. 

As busy as they were, the Butlers kept their calls brief and, almost as soon as it began, the two of them were signing off.

“Stay safe, Juliet.”

“You too, Dom.” Juliet let herself take in her brother’s appearance: the endearingly awkward angling of his camera, the hair of his eyebrows he had pushed out-of-place, his soft smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And the call ended. 

It must have been nearing dinnertime for her brother, but Juliet found herself squarely in Central Standard Time and had the rest of her day ahead of her. She originally planned to start a load of laundry, but found herself slipping on her tennis shoes and inserting her earbuds for a run instead. 

Her cardio playlist started off gently, meant for her to match the time signature with a soft jog to warm up her muscles before really getting into her workout. She ignored the music and relied on muscle memory instead, too distracted to concentrate on anything besides her thoughts. She slipped out the door and the back entrance of the hotel, barely registering the warmth of the outside sun before randomly choosing one of her many running routes. 

Bodyguards had to remain in shape. So did wrestlers, but Juliet knew better than to lie to herself about her motivations. 

As much as she loved her brother, Juliet always felt uneasy after their conversations. It had taken her a couple months in North America before she pinpointed the feeling as one of guilt. 

She hated it. Why should she feel guilty? Just because everyone was telling her what to do with her life didn’t mean she had any obligation to listen. Just because she was born a Butler didn’t mean she had to follow in the footsteps of her predecessors. 

Juliet used to always wonder if any of her ancestors had been like her; did any of them refuse to choose another’s life over their own? Did any of them find their own path? Certainly, if they had, her family would not have related their stories as they did the other members of their family at bedtime. 

She rounded the corner, eying the elderly couple sitting on their front steps and automatically designating them a low threat level. Their countdowns indicated they still had a couple years together yet. 

Juliet was a Butler. She was proud to be one, too. She had trained with the best and had inherited the ability to see far beyond one’s birthday. How selfish did she have to be to waste that on _wrestling_. Sure she debated her decision for years, but ultimately she left her supportive brother alone in Ireland. She followed her personal dream, not to mention her heart.

She was ruminating again. The colorful stucco flew by quicker than on her typical daily run. She forced herself to slow her thoughts and her pace. 

She made her decision. Juliet was a Butler, yes, but she was also her own person. She didn’t owe her life to anyone, and especially not the Fowls. 

Juliet wanted to wrestle. At least, for now. If she changed her mind in the future, she would take her opponent and fireman’s carry slam them off that bridge when she came to it.

She slowed her strides as she neared a bakery to peer inside the window. A single customer stood at the counter, and two employees faced her. Juliet took a moment to process their names instead of glazing over them as she typically would. 

_Xana Jiménez Marraco. Luz Mala Garcia. Bernardo Benito Quinta Quesada._

Were Luz and Bernardo Benito happy working as bakers? They appeared cheerful, but Juliet couldn’t tell for certain. Were they encouraged to follow this path by baker parents? Were they glad to, or was it reluctant compliance? Did they regret their decision?

Xana stepped outside, concha in each hand, already biting into one of them and leaving a trail of white glaze crumbles. 

Who was the other treat for? Was Xana satisfied with her life? With this city? Or did she want more? She had less time left than Juliet would typically expect of a woman of her age, but any time was worth living. 

Juliet examined her reflection in the window. Her visage was cut off by the metal bars panning over the glass, but her name floated ominously above her as always. 

_JULIET BUTLER._

Juliet, like all Butlers, was born to be a bodyguard. 

But, Juliet wasn’t her brother’s, or her parents’, or her uncle’s, or her ancestors’. 

Juliet was her own person and Juliet was free to make her own path. Her life, however long it might be, was her own.

**Author's Note:**

> me @ me: you can’t name every character demon mcfairy!  
> me @ me: try and stop me
> 
> I made a couple changes for the sake of the story (mostly allowing a person’s lifespan to change as circumstances do) but otherwise the concept of Shinigami eyes is taken entirely from the Death Note universe! (There are a couple other Death Note references too because I am a nerd and whoever catches them I will love forever)
> 
> Also! the formatting at the top of the story is made possible solely by [La_Temperanza's amazing tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549178/chapters/25935135)!
> 
> Title is from Sidney Gish’s “Imposter Syndrome”
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I’m always happy to hear what you guys think!


End file.
